


Tangled Up In Blue

by SegaBarrett



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Homophobic Language, I.E. Ray Being Ray, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 00:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11817858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: Ray is recovering from his run-in with the explosion - Chris is here to help, if he can.





	Tangled Up In Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tunglo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunglo/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Life on Mars, and I make no money from this.
> 
> A/N: Title from a slightly anachronistic Bob Dylan song :)

There were a lot of words that Chris could use to describe Ray, but “romantic” had never been one that was high on the list. Chris had trouble reconciling that with the fact that he knew… certain things about Ray. Things he would never mention in the presence of the guv, of course (he would have never let Ray hear the end of it), but things he would never mention to Sam, either.

When you got right down to the bone of it, Sam wasn’t really one of them. 

And he’d proven it this time, now that Ray had almost gotten blown up. Because Sam didn’t seem to care at all, not really. It was all about the case with him, solving the case, that and getting back to Hyde.

Chris didn’t think Hyde was so grand if it churned out DIs like Sam. 

Not that Sam wasn’t smart, not that Chris hadn’t admired him.

But there was a sharp difference between he and Ray, and everyone knew it. Most of all Ray, it seemed – there was a constant tension that Chris couldn’t quite put a name to, a kind of chess match that no one seemed to acknowledge they were playing. 

The guv seemed to be the chessmaster, however. He was smart in a way that Chris knew he himself was not, and a way that he knew Ray was not.

Smart was not the same thing as heart, and that was important. Heart was something that Ray had a lot of, too much perhaps. After all, for someone who normally didn’t show a lot of emotion, he was clearly not doing well in the wake this explosion. But what could Chris do? Some namby-pamby stuff? Ray would kill him if he started asking him about his feelings or some other poofter stuff like that. 

“Ray,” he said instead. “You with us?”

Ray grumbled, scratching his neck beneath the brace around his neck. 

“I’m here.”

“Maybe you should go home,” Sam cut in, and Chris felt himself bristle slightly, to his surprise. He wasn’t someone who got hot under the collar about things, not someone who got jealous and wanted to shut other people out.

But usually, Ray wasn’t at stake, now was he?

“Maybe he ought to. But you shouldn’t be alone, you know, Ray,” Chris cut in. “There’s concussions and things. Make your brain rattle right in your head.”

“I’m about to rattle yours,” Ray grumbled in response, raising his fist. “I don’t need babying, and I don’t need you looking out for me, Chris!” Even as he said “Chris,” he shot a look over at Sam. 

“Sure, okay, no babying,” Chris agreed.

“I’m not a poofter.”

“Of course not, Ray.”

***

“Me head’s ringin’.”

“Maybe you should drink some water. I think that might help, won’t it?” 

Chris handed him a glass of water, pausing and daring to place a hand on Ray’s forehead, even though that might invite his wrath. 

“I can’t believe it,” Ray said, before pausing to take a chug of water. “I should be out there. Being here at home? It’s poofter stuff.”

“You’ve said poofter at least four times in the last three hours, Ray,” Chris pointed out. “Go ahead and lay down on the couch. I know that you’re going to be fine. And we can get right back to the case, but first you need to rest.”

Ray crossed his arms across his chest. 

“You don’t know what it’s like, Chris,” he said after a long while. “I feel like I’m slipping away… Like I’m losing it. I need to be on… I need to be back there, busting up. I can’t lay here all day. No one will let me forget it if I do.”

“You’re not losing it, Ray.” Chris didn’t realize what he was doing until it was already done – he had moved his face until it was less than an inch away from Ray’s face. “I know that you’re a good copper. Anyone would be shook up after what happened, though. I know I was.”

“Chris… What are you doing?”

“Nothing, Ray.” 

Chris pulled his face away as if it was in the path of a burst of steam.

***

Ray came back to work, but Chris could tell that things weren’t quite the same. It was like he couldn’t focus on more than one thing at a time, as if he was on the other side of a wall that Chris couldn’t break through. 

What could he say to break the spell? It wasn’t as if Ray was going to open up about it, going to “talk about it” (though Sam kept suggesting things along those lines, and even if it was good advice, Chris kind of wanted to thrash him every time he suggested it). 

So, what could Chris even do?

He toiled over it in his head before approaching Ray, crouching slightly so as not to come up behind him. If he scared his friend, especially in front of everyone, he couldn’t have ever forgiven himself. Ray was important; he needed to be treated with care, though he was less of a baby bird and more of a hastily put together bomb.

“Raymundo,” Chris greeted, putting on a big and oblivious grin. “We should go to the pub, after. It’s been too long.”

“We were there yesterday,” Ray pointed out.

“Like I said.” Chris awkwardly tapped on the desk ahead of him, trying to give himself a “drumroll”, “It’s been too long.”

“You’re right,” Ray agreed.

***

Chris watched as Ray tilted another glass back, breathed in the alcohol and watched.

“Aren’t you going to have one, Chris?” Ray inquired. “It’s not much fun to drink alone.”

“It can be a lot of fun to drink alone.”

“Good point. But… what’s going on with you?”

Chris looked around; when he was satisfied that no one from the station was in earshot, he slowly spoke up, “Worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me! Why won’t you shut up?”

Chris leaned down, and – daring, not daring – set his hand on top of Ray’s.

“Maybe I always worry about you. You know me, Ray. Always nervous about everything.”

Taking the blow. He would put it on himself, that was the way – that made things easier, didn’t it?

“What if,” Chris said a moment later, “We went back to my place? Then we can both… and I won’t have to worry about driving drunk and having the guv pull me over. It’d be a bad mess, that, wouldn’t it?”

The thought of Chris making his way down the road, paranoid and fumbling with the controls, must have done it. Ray burst out laughing.

“Good point.” He tossed a few pounds on the counter. “Let’s go.”

***

Ray was collapsed back on the couch before Chris could explain or ask much of anything, and that was all right. It saved him from having to ask a lot of uncomfortable questions or hear a lot of equally uncomfortable things. Ray was reeling, he knew that much – but he had no idea what to do.

He was sure Sam would be full of advice, and part of him wanted to ring him up to ask for it. But he knew Ray would hate that, letting Sam in on whatever was going on.

So he would go it alone, he would. Whether that was going to be a complete disaster or not remained to be seen. 

He reached down and took off Ray’s shoes, placing them behind the couch. He giggled slightly at Ray’s socks, too big for him and already sliding off his feet. 

He playfully reached down to tickle Ray’s ankle, then immediately pulled his hand away, wondering where the hell that urge had come from. 

Ray gave only a little, sleeping snort or snore in response. 

Chris pulled a blanket over Ray, then, leaning in to whisper, “I love you, you right knob. Don’t die on me.” It hit him, then – could it happen? Maybe something had gone wrong in Ray’s skull, for real, and maybe he should be in a hospital and not on Chris’ couch. Maybe this was all wrong. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he continued, with more confidence than he felt. 

Ray rolled over and took a skeptical look at him.

“What was that, Chris?”

Chris stared back at him.

“I… love you,” he mumbled, moving to get in position to take off down the street as quickly as possible. Maybe he could get back to whatever weird world Sam was from, because perhaps there would be a world in which this wasn’t the weirdest, most embarrassing thing that could ever happen to a person. He’d just muttered out his love to his best friend – all he needed was the guv to get a whiff of this and he would be mince meat; even Phyllis would make fun of him, and Sam would try to make it all some kind of weird lesson about the future.

“Chris?” Ray called, and Chris couldn’t help but turn back. Whatever Ray was going to say to him, he surely deserved. “I’ll deny it tomorrow, say it was my head but… I love you, too.” He rolled back over on the couch and yawned. “Oh, and don’t bloody touch my feet.”


End file.
